


Hold You All Night Long

by fakebodies



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: (kind of), Fluff, M/M, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakebodies/pseuds/fakebodies
Summary: Adam has a long day, and so does Eric — at least they've got each other.(don't ask me why I love this ship so much... or why Type O Negative gives me such vibes for them)
Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Eric Matthews
Kudos: 7





	Hold You All Night Long

Adam doesn’t move when he hears familiar heavy footsteps approach. He knows the sound of his boyfriend’s boots by heart at this point, eyes closed, listening as Eric takes off his work boots off. He hears a couple of soft grunts as Eric sinks to the floor next to him. The wood is hard beneath his back, Type O Negative filtering through their worn speakers. Peter Steele sings about love and death, as Adam floats somewhere between reality and that mental bathroom that took over the dark corners of his mind.

As the song fades out, he opens his eyes. He can feel Eric watching him, sluggishly turning his head to meet his boyfriend’s gaze. The beginning of the next song pounds through the speakers, crackling guitar leading into Steele’s powerful vocals. Adam lets out a slow breath, smiling a little at the curious, concerned expression on Eric’s face. He shifts forward, resting his forehead against Eric’s.

“Long day?” Eric asks, one hand gently squeezing Adam’s arm. He nods.

“Without you, yeah.” photography jobs weren’t always consistent. Today was one of those days Adam spent alone. His thoughts weren’t always pleasant.

He’d never ask Eric to stay home, especially not now that he felt good enough to actually work. He didn’t make as much, but his job at the mechanic’s shop had really helped. Adam was proud of him, more than Eric would probably ever know. That didn’t make these days any easier. Eric’s thumb rubs patient circles on his arm; there’s nothing for him to say.

“I’m just glad you’re home.” Adam sighs. Eric gently nudges him closer, until his head is on Eric’s chest. His heartbeat is steady in Adam’s ear. The next song starts, as Eric’s fingers brush through Adam’s messy hair.

“I’m glad I’m home too.” he whispers. Adam can hear the subtle hitch in his voice, that telltale sign that Eric’s day had been just as shitty. Adam in the bathroom, and him back in his cell. They may be free, but Jigsaw was an ever-looming presence in the back of both of their minds. Eric still struggled with nightmares, even after three years.

In the background, a new song comes on. Adam can’t help himself, starting to hum along when he recognizes it: one of his favorites off the album. Eric’s hand settles at the nape of his neck, fingers gently toying with the short hair there. Slowly, quietly Eric’s voice joins in, soft and melodic. Adam closes his eyes, content to listen to his boyfriend and feel the movement of his chest.

Maybe it’s stupid to say, but Adam sometimes forgot how talented Eric is. He didn’t let himself be soft very often. Of course Adam understood why, better than anyone. Understanding didn’t make moments like these any less special. As he sings, his fingers trail down over Adam’s back, slow and comforting. It’s hard not to think of how much Eric has changed, since the first time they met.

Going to one of those Jigsaw survivor groups had been pure chance on Adam’s part. Or maybe it was luck— Eric sat across from him in the circle. His hair had been much longer, then, an unruly mess of waves. The only thing he’d done was glare at anyone who looked at him too long, the wounded lashing-out of someone just back from hell. Adam knew it well.

What surprised him was the smirk he got instead; that Dagen guy started to speak and he rolled his eyes, and Eric? Eric looked straight at him as he cracked an unsteady smirk, brown eyes growing warm. Adam had to duck his head to hide his own grin.

They spoke quietly together after the meeting ended, huddled in the corner like angry teenagers. It was nice— Adam laughed, for the first time in ages. When he got Eric to smile, lopsided and a little fragile, his heart melted. It was an unspoken agreement from then on, to come to the group meetings on the same day so they could share quiet sneers. Neither of them could stand Bobby Dagen, but being near each other was worth putting up with his stupidity. It was Eric’s idea to go out for drinks that first night.

Drinks had evolved quickly. They exchanged phone numbers, and it was Adam he called when Eric had a breakdown. The photographer was at Eric’s apartment as fast as possible. He’d shaved Eric’s hair that night, sitting on the toilet with the taller man on the floor in front of him. Adam watched his shoulders relax more with each pass of the razor. While Eric showered off, Adam cleaned up the apartment and ordered pizza for them to share. They fell asleep on the couch together. In the morning, Eric apologized, but Adam brushed it off quickly. What were friends for?

But they were more than friends, weren’t they? It was a question that wormed its way into the back of Adam’s mind. He can’t remember the last time he felt this way about someone, this urge to just... be. To share space, to love any way he could. They thought about moving in together before they shared their first kiss. Adam didn’t have much to bring, and it only made sense. He hung his clothes in Eric’s closet and put his photography equipment in the hall closet, and the apartment became _theirs_.

So they lie together, on the wood floor of their apartment, Eric’s voice soft in his ear as Die With Me ends. Chapped lips press a kiss to his forehead, as Adam finally opens his eyes again. It was almost time for him to shave Eric’s hair— the mundane realization brings on a smile. Eric is such a key part of his life, Adam could build his schedule around their relationship. He drapes his arm across Eric’s stomach and takes a slow breath.

“I love you.” Adam whispers, because it doesn’t feel right to speak any louder. In this moment, there’s nobody else in the world. Just him and Eric and their old CD player.

“Yeah, I know.” Eric’s voice is just as low, but his smirk is still clear in his tone. Adam laughs, rolling onto his stomach so he can really look at Eric. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, for Adam. He leans forward to steal another kiss.

“Thanks for laying with me.”

“What, I come home to my weird boyfriend laying on the floor and I’m not supposed to join him?” Eric smirks, earning another laugh. Things have never been easy for Adam, even before Jigsaw, but somehow Eric made everything lighter. The bathroom seems like some impossible dream with him, like if he pulled his shirt collar down there wouldn’t be a scar. Like his shoulder wouldn’t twinge every time he extends his arm too far.

“No, you’re definitely supposed to join me.” Adam’s expression softens when he feels Eric’s fingers working through his hair again, letting out a low hum. “I just remembered my boyfriend’s a star and wanted to thank you for joining me.”

“A star? No fucking way.” Eric scoffs. His hands settle on Adam’s hips, tugging him up so he’s straddling him. Adam looks down, brushing through Eric’s short beard.

“Yeah fucking way!” he nods enthusiastically.

“You think I could be on stage without losing it?” Eric’s eyebrows shoot up. Adam’s eyes are full of love as he shakes his head a little.

“You’re _my_ star, Matthews.” he blows Eric a kiss, laughing as his boyfriend rolls them, pinning Adam’s wrists with ease.

“I should kick you out for that, Stanheight.”

“It’s Faulkner-Stanheight to you.” Adam sticks his tongue out, both of them breaking into grins. Before he can think, words slip easily past his lips: “Faulkner-Stanheight-Matthews if you want to get technical.”

Eric’s grip on his wrists goes slack, eyes widening as he scans Adam’s face. Adam knows the look— wounded, frightened. He gently pulls his hand free, cupping Eric’s cheek. The CD has long since stopped playing, the only sound in their apartment the faint hum of the speakers. It feels like they really might be the only two people in the world. Maybe in the universe.

“I really love you, Eric.” his voice low as he tucks a strand of soft, brown hair behind Eric’s ear. The smile he gets in return is hesitant, like Eric doesn’t want to believe Adam means it. Another soft kiss seems to take care of some of that doubt.

“So... Adam Faulkner-Stanheight-Matthews.” Eric studies Adam’s expression again, thinking. “Is that..?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“If I say yes, does that mean you have to put a ring on my finger?” Eric asks, teasing. With a laugh, Adam struggles out from under him, even as Eric tries to hold on. He rushes to the kitchen before Eric can snag the leg of his pants, starting to rifle through their junk drawer.

“C’mere!” he urges, grinning when two strong arms wrap around his waist. Taking Eric’s left hand, Adam winds the twist-tie he’d found around his ring finger. Once the ends are twisted together in a crude approximation of a ring, Adam turns to face him.

“Does that count as a ring?” he asks, watching the way Eric’s face twists as he nods, jaw clenched. “Eric-“

“Do you really want this?” the question is sudden, forced— like if Eric tries to say more, he might break. The implication is clear, though. Does Adam want to tie himself up with someone who struggled to be in public, who was lucky to have kept his job as a mechanic this long, who struggled with emotions and broke down more often than he actually asked for help? Does he want a fucked up mess of a man?

“You’re asking that like I’m not also a fucking nightmare to put up with.” Adam smiles softly, his arms resting loose around Eric’s waist. Giving him an opening to pull away if he needs to. Eric’s laugh is tired, as he rests his forehead on Adam’s shoulder. When he nods, Adam breaks into a grin.

“Yes, you wanna do this or yes, I’m a nightmare?” he teases, earning another soft laugh. His boyfriend’s breath is warm against his skin.

“Both?” Eric’s voice is muffled. He presses a kiss to Adam’s neck, as the photographer’s arms tighten around his waist, urging him closer.

“I like the sound of both.”

“Good, because being my husband isn’t gonna make you any less of a pain in the ass.” Adam’s laughter is his ear is bright, loud and perfect. When they finally move over to the couch, Eric looks down at the plastic-coated twist-tie wrapped around his finger. He seems lost in thought, rubbing it with his thumb.

“...You know I’m never taking this off.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and one Adam fully understands. For all their laughter, the weight of this moment is still clear to him. They’re both damaged goods, and this is a huge commitment, but Adam can’t imagine his life without Eric. Even if they don’t have a ceremony or even get a license, the meaning doesn’t change. Adam rests his cheek on Eric’s shoulder as he speaks again.

“I’ll put it on a chain if we get bands.”

“You’re just gonna wear a twist-tie forever?” Adam asks, even though he knows the answer. Eric’s quiet “yes” is the only response he expected, the only one that makes any sense.

“Because it’s from you, idiot.” Eric takes Adam’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Jerk.” Adam kisses Eric’s cheek, squeezing his hand.

“ _Your_ jerk.” Eric answers with a smirk. Adam hums in agreement, snuggling closer when Eric’s arm settles around his shoulders. Their lives weren’t perfect, but being together made things easier. They understood each other in ways no one else did, beyond all that Jigsaw bullshit. If Adam wanted to be _understood_ like that, he’d go to another one of those group sessions. No, Eric fit together with him like they were made for each other, slotting perfectly into his life as soon as they’d shared that first smirk at Bobby Dagen’s expense.

Adam closes his eyes, his head resting on Eric’s shoulder. They weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but why shouldn’t they try? Even if all they have is old CDs and wood floors and twist-ties, Eric means the world to him. He may not cherish his life the way that sick old fuck wanted him to, but Eric?

Adam will always cherish what they have.


End file.
